


Dawn

by clawstoagunfight



Series: Worth 1000 Words [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, M/M, Morning After, fluff-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clawstoagunfight/pseuds/clawstoagunfight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dawn breaks and Stiles watches Derek as he sleeps next to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Un beta'd so all of the mistakes are mine. 
> 
> This is a 1000 word prompt based off of the title word.

Stiles watches the sunlight flicker through the blinds. It casts a shadow on the bed, cutting through the inky remains of the night that still lingers in the room. The light of dawn casts slivered rosy rays on Derek’s naked back and Stiles reaches out a hand, ghosts his fingertip over the lighted lines. Derek doesn’t stir from his slumber, just nuzzles his head further into the pillow underneath him. Stiles traces the outline of Derek’s tattoo, watches as the soft pink light plays across the inked skin, giving new depth to the trio of spirals.

Stiles kisses Derek’s shoulder, just a soft, soft press of his lips, before he rests his head back against the pillow to watch Derek. He loves to see Derek like this, all soft and vulnerable with sleep. His eyes roam over him, taking in every part of his silent description.  Derek’s mouth is slightly parted, warm puffs of air hitting Stiles shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. His face is shadowed by dark stubble, eyes flickering behind closed lids—probably lost in some dream where he is happy and safe and warm, where he can just forget for a while about his life. He cherishes watching Derek dream, cherishes watching the severe line of his eyebrows soften and smooth. Like this, Stiles wonders what Derek would be like if he just let himself be happy and give up the ghosts that always seem to lurk beneath the surface, taunting him with guilt and anger and sadness that he never talks about.

It’s been years since Laura’s death, since his life was ruined for the second time, since he was forced to avenge her and kill the only family he had left in the world. Stiles knows that it doesn’t matter to Derek that Peter came back from the dead, knows that he still carries the weight of his murder around with him, feels the heavy burden of it like a noose. Stiles knows, too, why Derek only offers him stolen moments, like this, hidden from the rest of the world, just the two of them. He knows that as soon as Derek opens his eyes, the guilt will set in and he will leave Stiles alone in a bed that still smells like them, that is still warm from the way their bodies merged.

Derek will leave, and Stiles will watch him go. They won’t say anything; they never do. It will be like it never happened, like the night was washed from their memories by the golden light of day, eradicated from the crux of their minds; like somehow either of them could forget the way their bodies meet and merge, the way their limbs mix and their hearts mingle.

Derek moves again, just a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. Stiles has watched him wake enough times to know that soon he’ll open his eyes and look at Stiles. For a moment, he’ll forget about the anger, guilt, self-loathing, and sadness and just let himself _feel_. He’ll look at Stiles, face all open and honest, and then he will smile, like he always does before he remembers. But then he _will_ remember. Stiles will watch as shadows cross Derek’s eyes, his face, watch as the memories pull on his lips and press them into a solid line. Stiles will watch as Derek looks away, before he can perfectly mask the devastation on his features, carefully schooling it into severe stoicism laced with disregard.

And then Stiles’ heart will break just a little bit more, the pieces crumbling in his chest, breaking away with a sharp pang that steals his breath, stops his heart for just a moment. Derek won’t look at him again, he’ll just throw off the quilt and sit on the edge of the mattress, his back to Stiles. He’ll close his eyes for a moment and let the sunlight linger on his face before he’ll shake his head and Derek will get up to find his discarded clothes, pulling them on in short, swift movements before he walks out the door.

Stiles doesn’t sigh into the room, wary of waking Derek. He tampers down on the wave of longing that settles like an ache in his chest, closes his eyes against the yearning and tears that press just behind his eyelids. His breath is shaky when it leaves his parted lips.

He doesn’t blame Derek, knows he has his reasons—hell, Stiles knows better than anyone what those reasons are. He knows why Derek wakes up in a sea of regret every morning after. It’s the same feeling Stiles gets when he watches Derek sleep. It’s a feeling of being overwhelmed, lost in something you can’t control. For Stiles, it’s knowing that he can’t have this—whatever it is—that’s between them. He knows this won’t last, knows that soon it will be too much for Derek.

Because to Derek it feels like he’s ruining Stiles. Stiles sees it, in the looks Derek gives him, in the way he holds him after their bodies are spent, in the way he can’t—won’t—look at Stiles before he leaves. Stiles knows it kills a part of Derek to come back, knows it makes him feel like there is a disease inside of him that he feels might spread to Stiles while they are stolen away like this.

Stiles is just waiting now, waiting for the time that Derek finally stops coming back, waiting for his ghosts to kill what chance of happiness Derek could possibly find with Stiles. They could be happy, Stiles knows, the two of them together, but neither of them is willing to take the chance, to risk this—whatever it is—for vague  uncertainty.

So Stiles just watches Derek again, watches the way his eyes slowly start to blink awake, watches the way Derek looks at him for a moment, before his lips spread in a smile that seems brighter than the early morning light.

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly paraphrased the first couple sentences from song lyrics by one of my favorite bands. If you know the song, kudos to you.
> 
> As always, any and all comments and/or criticisms are accepted and appreciated! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Will someone ever show me love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920339) by [Nirvana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nirvana/pseuds/Nirvana)




End file.
